Senshi no Umi
by Daeva's Dance
Summary: Updated 4-26-05 "In the House of the King". Lucemon wasn't always crazy, you know. Rerview, review, review! My box is so empty! sad eyes
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One: Crossing Paths Again  
  
Summer was dying. The heat that had driven many to the waters for months was slowly and surely fading to the cold crispness of autumn. The wind that blew over the expanses of field had an almost playful bite to it. Trees were already acquiring their crowns of gold and harvests were being planned. It was hard to believe that only a year ago this whole world -her world- had been completely destroyed. And, as it pained her to admit, she had had a hand in its downfall.  
  
Glowing algae's eerie light lit the lagoon where Ranamon floated serenely in the delightfully warm waters, her ruby eyes closed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting herself sink a little deeper. A flick of one bare foot sent her into a slow spin.  
  
Yes, it was truly hard to believe. This world had not been truly peaceful in a long, long time. The Great Sundering War, Lucemon's coming and subsequent, if temporary, defeat, and a small lull during which she knew calm. The fighting, the sacrifices.they should have been over. Then the Celestials had been overthrown and her soul-data captured for Cherubimon's use. But her own death at the hands of a human girl wearing the Spirit of Wind had freed her once again. Lucemon had been reborn, trying to twist the worlds to his desires, and had annihilated the entire digital world in his mad quest for a utopia, but he had been struck down, hopefully for good this time. The data had been restored, thanks to those six human children and to, of course, her fellow Warriors.  
  
She looked up at the stars, just beginning to come out. Thank you, wherever you are.whatever you're doing. Thank you, she thought. Without you, humans, we would have had a fate worse than death.  
  
A noise startled Ranamon, bringing her upright in the pool in a flit. The bushes near her rustled softly. Instinctually she raised her hands slightly, ready to unleash the destruction of the sea upon the intruder.  
  
"Who's there?" she demanded.  
  
More rustling. Then a dark shape stepped out of the bushes.she did not recognize this digimon. Her hands went up a little more, but then she froze in place. It was a human! But not just any human. It was a young woman with sunny-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and electric blue eyes. She wore a dark purple sweater and a pair of black jeans, both of which hid yet emphasized a more womanly figure than the willowy youth's that had been her enemy at another time.another world. At Ranamon's startled look, the young woman smiled gently. "I thought I might find you here, Ranamon."  
  
".Y-you!" breathed the water digimon, and looked about almost suspiciously. It was as if her thanks had conjured the girl out of nowhere. "You came back." She found herself stating the obvious, so great was her shock.  
  
Izumi just grinned and drew up to the lagoon's pebbly shore. "Yeah. I know. It's a little overwhelming to me too."  
  
Ranamon peered up at the human, now beginning to get over her surprise and grasping at her mixed feelings. "I know a little about humans," she tried. "You're taller and more.well." The digimon made small motions, trying to pantomime her point.  
  
Now Izumi laughed outright. The musical sound was infectious and Ranamon found herself smiling back. "It's called puberty. Like evolving for digimon.only not so cool, and too slow. You know, I would think of you as a lot of things, but never awkward. Not as I knew you. How have you been, Ranamon?"  
  
"I've been.all right." She climbed slowly out of the pool, the strange feelings-mix beginning to make some sense now. "How did you find a way back to this world after the way's been closed?"  
  
"It was a lucky accident that I found it. I was walking from school one day and my cell phone buzzed near this condemned station. And I felt this strange tingle as I got closer, as if something in me was encouraging me to go to it. So I did, and my phone let out this light near a crumbling wall, and suddenly I recognized where I was. This was where Lucemon had broken through to my world. Apparently, the tunnel he had made was still some good. I went home and brought a few things with me this time, and I went though." Izumi looked up towards the three moons that were beginning to shine in the dying red of sunset. "It feels good to be back."  
  
Ranamon watched the girl as she spoke, a small measure of guilt rising in her. "Izumi." she said. "You know, the times we stood so close, I was trying to kill you. I find the thought horrible now, but back then, I hated you. You." Ranamon struggled for words briefly, "It was painful for me every time I saw you. Something in me remembered being like you, strong and full of courage and ready to do good. But every time I tried to reach out to this feeling and try to remember who I really was, the evil tangled in me was like a wall of fire. I was frustrated at it, and it made me hate you. It was why I was so wrapped up in my looks.my fan clubs. So I wouldn't remember, and there wouldn't be any hurt. I'm so sorry for what I did to you and your friends, truly sorry. Will you forgive me?"  
  
For answer, Izumi reached and wrapped the small 'mon up in a tight hug. Ranamon let out a squeak of surprise, but just as quickly returned the embrace. "That's over now," Izumi told her. "It wasn't your fault for what you were made to do. You didn't choose to be evil; it was just circumstance that Cherubimon got a hold to your spirit. I fought you because I had to. Yes, I forgive you. Looks like that cleansing did you a world of good, though, didn't it?"  
  
Ranamon found herself laughing and pulled away from the human girl. "It did, and for it I can't thank you enough."  
  
Suddenly, Izumi thought of something. "Where are the other spirits? I knew where you were because this someone called this place 'Ranamon's Lagoon', but what about the others?"  
  
"Walk with me, Izumi," Ranamon said simply and tugged her hand. They went around the lagoon and set off through an open field toward the myriad lights of a digital city. "After the six of you left, Ophanimon gave us Warriors a choice. 'You have all fought for us more than your fair share of battles,' she said. 'You have been through more than I can scarcely guess at. I now give you the opportunity to either take your well-deserved rest before we might need you again, or to live on with your people and teach and defend us against whatever small evils may come.' Arbormon, Grottomon, Blitzmon, and Chakmon all chose to become part of the Sacred Code until they are needed again. Agnimon, Wolfmon, Fairymon, Löwemon, Mercuremon, and I chose to stay.  
  
"Agnimon has the finest fighting school the digital world has ever seen; his students are excellent in tactics and battle strategy as well as actual battle. Löwemon has grown to be a scientist. He came up with the idea of the Data Fragmenter, which, in an emergency, will scatter the data of the location that it's programmed to. No one will ever use the data of this world to empower themselves or to resurrect anyone ever again. Wolfmon wanders the world, an explorer, and his brother often accompanies him. Last I heard, they were up in the Mountains of the Moon with a tribe of nomadic digimon. Mercuremon dabbles in the fine arts. He writes excellent plays, you know. There's one about the struggle between you children and us called Warriors. His newest, Lady of the Stars- Ophanimon opened this week. Fairymon resides at the Temple of Wind along with Nefertimon, Keeper of the Records. The great library of Ophanimon was moved there and Fairymon has become quite the historian." A smile tilted up the corners of Ranamon's lips at the thought of her old friend from legendary times. "She always did love the books."  
  
Izumi saw the smile and asked "What about you?"  
  
"I'm on the Council." Ranamon replied. "After Lucemon's final downfall, the restored population were afraid of having another ruler or set of rulers and after all that they went through, I really don't blame them. So, they set up the Council, a group of digimon of all elements and both types who make the major decisions. Alongside them has been the Committee of Trade, who takes care of transportation and goods and balances the Council's power. Our latest decision is that tomorrow begins the five- day, world-wide Festival of Liberation, the anniversary of Lucemon's defeat." Ranamon fairly bounced with enthusiasm. "You'll be an honored guest."  
  
"I'd love to celebrate with you!" gushed Izumi, some of the earnestness from her younger days appearing now. "But can I ask you something?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Can I see Fairymon tonight?"  
  
Ranamon considered. "Actually, that's what I was going to do tonight, myself. This city has a Trailmon track that leads to the Sky Terminal. We'd be there in an hour."  
  
"Great!" grinned Izumi, looking towards the city getting steadily bigger by the moment. "I'd love to see her again. It was like leaving a piece of me behind when I left, but it was gaining a piece of myself that I didn't know was there, too."  
  
There was silence between them for a long time. Then Izumi piped up again.  
"Ranamon, I've seen the digital world as a human girl and as a digimon. Bonding with Fairymon and Shutumon taught me a lot of things, but I've wanted to know.what it was like, back then."  
  
"Back then?" Ranamon echoed. "Back then when?"  
  
"I remember Bokomon telling us there had been a great war between beast type digimon and human type digimon."  
  
"The Great Sundering War, we call it," Ranamon murmured.  
  
Izumi nodded, absorbing the information. " Yes, and it was because of stopping the war that Lucemon rose to power." Her blue eyes sparked when she looked at Ranamon. "You were alive then, weren't you? When he ruled?"  
  
The Warrior of Water did not answer right away. She was thinking of days far gone and over with, but that had been so strong as to shape the future years and years later. She had been young and unlearned, then not knowing what the days would next bring her. "Yes I was," she finally said. "I was hatched five and a half years after the war was over."  
  
"Tell me," Izumi commanded softly.  
  
"I will, but when we are with Fairymon. Then you will know all you wish about my youth." 


	2. Weaving the Tale

Chapter Two: Weaving the Tale  
  
The Sky Terminal was actually a small, perfectly round island about a half- mile above the mainland of the digital world. Not many Trailmon went up that way, but the pair managed to catch one that was just leaving as they came running up to it.  
  
The Trailmon was at a loss for words at having not one, but two heroines, boarding him, of all 'mon, and was at a lost for words. When he finally recovered, which didn't take long, he asked them anxiously about every ten minutes or so if they were all right and if they needed anything. Despite this slight irritation, it was strangely endearing and when they reached the terminal, they both thanked the flustered Trailmon profusely.  
  
The small island was pristinely quiet, aside from the light winds that never stopped blowing. They rustled the grasses and the leaves of the delicate trees so it seemed as if all around there were whispers. In the moons' light, Izumi examined a statue of what look like code doubling back on itself above two infinity loops of code joined at their centers. "I've never one of these before, Ranamon. What does it mean?"  
  
"It's the symbol of the Sacred Code," Ranamon informed. "The data that makes us all up and connects us with each other and the world. It is also the herald of the gods and the mark of a sacred place. This island is sacred because of the information it holds. All the other libraries all around the world are not as big, and all the books they have are copies of the ones here, which are the original manuscripts. We're almost there." Abruptly the trees and tall grasses leveled out. A carefully tended garden lay before them, of fruit trees and flowers grown in lightly ornate designs. A winding stone path led the way ahead between stone arches and over a bridge. Benches were scattered about the place, as if randomly, but as Izumi looked it seemed that the benches were arranged in a loose spiral pattern. Beyond all this rose the Temple of Winds.  
  
It had no edged that either of them could see, smooth and rounded rather like a seashell into a spiral, like the bench arrangement. The doors, ajar to let in the night air, were also smooth and unedged, as were the windows, circular panes of stained glass, beautifully intricate. It was as if the whole island was made out of circles, which was not displeasing at all.  
  
"When this was rebuilt to its old condition as it was before the War, I remember Löwemon saying: 'Knowledge should be a circle. It never stops flowing around, leaving us and coming back from others in a cycle as old as time,'" Ranamon commented lightly.  
  
"You're very wise," Izumi complimented.  
  
Ranamon laughed. "Me, wise? I don't think so; I just quote wise people."  
  
As they drew up to the Temple, whose huge double doors were open, Izumi spied a small shape by them, head buried in a book.  
  
"Bokomon!" Izumi cried happily.  
  
The scholarly digimon looked up in annoyance. "Yes what is it?" A moment of stunned silence passed. " I-Izumi?!"  
  
Ranamon watched with badly disguised amusement as Izumi swept up the usually at-least-partly-dignified Bokomon and hugged him lightly. The digimon blushed crimson as she set him back down and didn't speak for some seconds.  
  
"I never thought you would be able to cross between our worlds again if you weren't called. " Bokomon said at last. "I thought we'd never see any of you children again." He bowed politely to Ranamon before adding. "I think I can safely guess who you're here to see. Follow me."  
  
The trio passed into the Temple's main room, where the main bulk of the digital world's knowledge was stored on mammoth curved shelves of polished wood, following the room's curve around and eventually, upwards into indistinctness. The few spaces of wall that was not hidden by shelf were the windows seen from outside, stained glass artwork depicting famous digimon, natural scenes, or the Sacred Code insignia. A thick, toe-wriggle- inviting carpet was underfoot, gently crushed under the impact of many feet, and the scent of something like incense was in the air. It was quiet, but not oppressively so, like what sometimes happens in human libraries. Several dozen digimon could be seen here on the main floor; most were absorbed in books; others talked softly among themselves, penned notes, or their own additions to the library.  
  
"It's lovely," breathed the human, craning her neck and trying to see upwards past the large, bright chandeliers above.  
  
"It's modeled after the original Temple of Winds," Bokomon informed, tucking his book under his arm, "though no one knows where it used to stand, or even who came up with the plans in the first place."  
  
Ranamon let Izumi take in the room while she herself cast her eyes about the many tables, chairs and cushions scattered through the room. When she finally found what she was looking for, she called Izumi over to follow her to a small island of cushions where a lone, human type digimon sat, next to a large book and a few scattered pieces of parchment. Her lavender hair drifted over her face, brushing the shoulders of a simple wrap-around dress of the same shade. The visor that usually covered her face was gone, to show off eyes of a delicate sky-blue and half-closed in thought. At Ranamon's approach, she looked up quickly with an oddly birdlike movement, and beamed.  
  
"Rana, you're early! I've gotten to upload a few more pages while I was here and-" Suddenly she paused, shocked into silence when she saw who stood behind Ranamon.  
  
"I brought someone who wants to see you," smiled Ranamon with a playful understatement, and moved aside. The Wind Spirit stood as the human who had shared a body and half a soul with her came forward.  
  
It was like the first time the two had "met" in Soyokaze Village- uncertain at first, and a little frightening, but something that Izumi knew was right, somewhere in the bottom of her being. She held out her hands to Fairymon, who took them, squeezing tightly, and it was if Izumi had never left.  
  
"Zumi-chan," murmured the Warrior of Wind. "Zumi-chan."  
  
They embraced then, and Ranamon wondered what it must be like to share the enigma that was human data with one's own digimon data, tied so inextricably together that flits of emotion had still moved between them from time to time, even separated by the weight of an entire world. When the pair finally released one another, she shared how she had met Izumi at the spring and recalled events up to their arrival. Fairymon regarded her human partner with interest when she was done.  
  
"The past?" she mused, glancing at the papers around her resting spot. "It's funny you should mention that. Between everything that's been happening, Ranamon and I have been working on that very thing; recalling the past. For a long while, our ancient memories have been dormant, Ranamon's because of Cherubimon's influence, and my own because my essence was "dim", so that I could only be found by the right human," -here a brief smile at Izumi. " The other Warriors were in much the same boat. All we could recall were bits and snatches of conversation, movements, snatches of thought. When the data was released from Lucemon's Satan Mode, it seemed that our memories came flooding back, slowly at first, then more and more. So the both of us began to write them down, all we could remember, and gathered what we could from those that remain who could recall those old days; the other Warriors, the Celestials, and a few others. And that is the result." She gestured at the thick book that had been lying by her.  
  
"No one should make the mistakes of that past," Ranamon said solemnly. "Nothing like what happened then should happen again. We can't say that it won't. We can't even say what will happen tomorrow. But at least we know we did our part to warn." She picked up the papers, and Fairymon picked up the book, holding it open to the last page. "Chronicle, add information" Ranamon intoned. A light glided over the papers and page-shaped collections of data swirled into the book, blank at first, then words appeared like an infestation of ants, crawling over the new sheets to their appointed places. When the light died, the loose papers were gone.  
  
"Wow," Izumi said, taking the book and flipping back to its beginning. "How much is left?"  
  
"Not much," Fairymon, Bokomon and Ranamon said together. Fairymon continued: "Enough to tell, and fill in at the end, from memory."  
  
The two Warriors smiled at each other, a smile the same on both their faces; knowing and sad, the look of those who have seen too much in their long lives. The burden of knowledge could be eased, but only by sharing the burden with others. The four sat together in a circle, the book in the middle of them all.  
  
"Fairymon, you start. It was your vision." Ranamon said.  
  
The winged 'mon nodded decisively, her eyes clouding over as she dug into the wellspring of her memory. "When we first lived, it was the Golden Age of Lucemon, now called the Black Age, a little more than a thousand years ago now. Of course, no one knew that then. How could we? It was a happy time while it lasted, while we weren't the Wind and Sea Warriors, but just two friends, trying to make the best of the new world we had been given."  
  
______________________________________ End of Chapter Two! Yeah, I know, not much here. I'm just prepping for the REAL story-in-a-story. Thankies to the reviewers! Much appreciation!  
  
Review replies:  
  
Noble Skuld: Always happy to please a reader!  
  
Akino Ame: *squees * Thank you very much! Actually, I'm not much of a newbie to the writing game, though this is my first stab at fanfiction. I though it would be good to take things from the digimon's POV for once.the kids are only accidental visitors to the world, after all. Hope you stay tuned.  
  
Jazzerman: Dun worry, I shall definitely continue.  
  
AlannaBanana: Sorry, 'Lanna-chan. This fic is digimon centered, and so far, Izumi is the only human visitor to the world- and she's here for a story, lol. Still, thanks for your review and I hope ypu stall tuned nonetheless.  
  
Ninjahanna: Will do! ^.~ 


	3. The Tale, Chapter One: Wave Station

I know it's been a rediculously long time since the last time I updated this fic, and probably lots of you thought it was deadbefore it began lol...been busy. Uncoorpertive 'Net, college, etc. Hopefully you've all found the patience to wait for the slow authoress. 

Wave Station-

"All aboard! Last call for the five-thirteen, destination: Wave Station Twelve" The Trailmon's booming voice echoed throughout the station and milling digimon scrambled for the platforms, waving good-bye to friends or family before hastily boarding. Farewells and good wishes carried themselves on the warm air before being drowned under the double blast of the Trailmon's departing whistle. The townscape of Red Prarie began to glide past, quickly gainig speed past the windows- flickering faces, trees, buildings. Sylphmon watched in silence, gathering up the ever quickening sights in her mind as she bid another place good-bye in her thoughts. Red Prarie had been a small but charming town, and the two days she had spent there had been pleasant - much like her home town of Lakeframe, far to the north and west. It would have been a nicely familiar place to live.  
But she couldn't think of settling yet. There was something that needed doing.  
She turned away from the window and stared into her lap where her small, long fingered hands were folded demurely. Her parents had known that their child was a strange one when she had seemed to know things without speaking, that no baby 'mon should know. She would always knew where her father hid the toys, when her mother was looking for her after a hard day of play. At first they had just been feelings, vague impressions that her baby self had followed like the instinct to eat or cry or sleep. As she had grown older, the feelings, too, matured into pictures, still at first, then silent movies in brief black-white flicks, then colors, colors and sound, then, when she had evolved into her adult form of Sylphmon, they had immersed all of her senses, just as if she stood there herself. Her parents were proud of her, and encouraged her strange gift.  
"My little one," Empressmon, her mother, had told her one day, not long ago, "your father's family has passed on these visions to you. Very long ago, his ancestors served the Oracles, and in turn were granted a little of what it sees to light their way in the world. None has had it so strongly as you for a while. Use it, and be proud of it"  
The visions had always been innocuous- just little touches of things that were happening here or there all in the present. Occasionally she saw the past, and once or twice, the breifest breath of future. She had helped in her village according to what she saw, and she had realized, one day, that she needed to leave.  
The feeling had been strange and sudden, absolutely imperitive. She could not stay where she was; something or someone pulled her forth. When she confessed this to her father, Wizardmon, he had only sort of smiled, nodded, and embraced her. And right then, she knew that he had done the same, some time ago.  
So she left her home with blessing and generous travelling funds from her village. She wasn't sure where she was off to at first- she merely let her intuition guide her, and so far, as the world continued to finish its recovery after the ravaging done to it by the terrible civil war, she had helped a surprising amount of 'mon with her visions- nothing drastic, but she had eased their lives, and that had felt pretty good.  
Then a month out, while in a diner, she had had what she had come to think of as the Vision.  
Her sight had totally blacked out- none of that gentle blurring of reality that proceeded any of her other visions. It was exactly as if someone had wrapped a thick cloth over her head and kicked her over a cliff. The vision grabbed her brain and seared itself into it- it went back and back and back into some primal eon, while the world was still forming; forces etched themselves onto the ground and into the air, day and night, windrustle, fireflicker, spilling rain onto the newborn of creation. Fractal code zapped wild and unsettled over the ground as areas were created and destroyed in spaces of heartbeats. She felt as if she was being gripped by an enormous pressure, and slowly she realized that what held her were the forces that were violently creating the world that she knew. As soon as the realization passed through her consciousness, the vision pitched her forward at a horribly breathtaking pace into Now. Faces whipped past her; nine other digimon, none of whom she recognized- dimly she could see the background of where they were, and other digimon there- but their faces seemed highlighted, burning into her panicked mind with a silent command: findthem findthem findthem. She had come back to herself with a drowning gasp, heart pounding, finding herself on the floor with worried digimon clustered over her. "Is she all right?" "Get her some water!" "Is there a doctor?" "Oh, help her!" Aside from an aching head, however, she had felt fine- except that her wanderings had a compass now. She had no idea how she was supposed to find just 9 digimon on a world of millions, but she felt confident that she would be guided. She trusted in the Gods, and her gift. Whatever reason that she needed to find them, she would.  
Sylphmon glanced back up at the window as she felt a change in the Trailmon's running. They were on a high bridge over the restless ocean, going out towards a light glimmer in the waves. As they got closer, and the tracks began to dip, she realized with a mix of intregue and apprehension that Wave Station Twelve was actually under the water! Fascinated, she watched them incline lower and lower. She hadn't even known that there were underwater cities.  
"Hey," the Trailmon's voice made everyone in the car pause in their conversations. "Everyone, we're about to pull into W.S. Twelve. I'll be docked here for a half an hour, so take a look around." They incline sharpened rather suddenly, and Sylphmon made out the track heading towards what looked like a small island, but upon closer inspection, turned out to be a cleverly concealed tunnel heading under the waves. The car was plunged into blue-tinged twilight, and the bright line of the water's surface receded above them. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn they were speeding through the water itself. Fish swam idly past, some chased by some aquatic digimon, beautiful underwater gardens were being tended to, but she wanted to see the city. Whatever the dome that protected it was made out of, it couldn't quite be seen through.  
"Here we are! The largest city under the sea, folks." The Trailmon began to slow as the tunnel widened out. Other Trailmon were gathered in a sprawling terminal, chatting to one another as they waited for their departure light. The general murmur of the passengers grew with rustling bags being recovered from overhead and underfoot, restless bottoms shuffling, squealing children sensing the ride was at its end. Sylphmon shouldered her own bag- her only luggage- and walked down the aisle with the crowd of other 'mon.  
As soon as she exited, her neck seemed to crane its way up all by itself. So far, she'd passed through small and medium sized towns, and had seen cities on the distant horizon, but to be in one- let alone the biggest one underwater- was incredible. She wished, not for the first time, to have her mother's great, glorious wings to really look at this place the way she wanted to. The buildings were so high! But the only trace that she might fly one day was the butterfly-wing pattern all over her pale skin, and the twin knobbed antennae poking out from her brown hair.  
Well, there was no use pouting about it. She was running dangerously low on cash, so she would have to pick up some odd job here and stay a while. She was sure, with all the rebuilding going on, there'd be something for a young wanderer like hers-  
Wait!  
Sylphmon's antennae stood straight up, stomach dropping, heart rushing. There, there! There was one of the digimon from her vision! She was a small human-type like herself, with deep blue-violet skin that seemed lit from within, and a long, pretty face, which seemed shy and almost mournful. Her lightly frayed white dress was decorated with shells, as was her short blue hair, and one of her two pairs of arms was idly playing with them. Instantly Sylphmon arrowed in her direction, skillfully dodging through the crowd that seperated her from the building where the mysterious female 'mon stood. She was pushed and jostled roughly, but she didn't care.  
"Hey!" she called. "Hey!" The other 'mon blinked twice and turned in her direction looking for the speaker, brow lightly furrowed. "Over here!" The violet eyes lighted on her and Sylphmon beamed. Now if she could just-  
A rough hand grabbed her arm and hauled her about roughly. Sylphmon found herself facing another digimon, the same kind as the one in the white shelled dress, except this one was colored deep blue and had a nasty scowl on her face. "And what do you think you're doing?" she snarled.  
"I-I just want to talk to her for a second!" stammered Sylphmon, struggling against the crushing grip on her arm.  
The digimon bared sharp teeth. "Damn freeloaders. I told you- no one sees her!" With that, she opened her mouth wide and shrieked. The sound echoed throughout the city and through Sylphmon's body with the force of a pole being rammed through her skull. She flew backwards and slammed into the wall of the neighboring building, her body trembling spasmodically. The last thing she saw before blacking out was the sad violet eyes of the digimon in her vision. 


	4. In the House of the King

In the House of the King 

Far across the sweep of the digital world, nestled near the Holy Mountains, the Royal City was a scant hour away from dawn. In the City proper, lanterns moved in the streets, slowly gravitating towards the palace as the glow in the East grew. The palace, too, was waking- breakfast being prepared in the kitchens, the staff waking to perform their duties, and the ever-present servants attending to them.

The Ruler of all the Digital World stood on the balcony outside of the wide windows of his bedchamber, watching the lights draw closer. Light footsteps sounded behind him, and Lucemon half turned away from the sight. "There are more every day," he observed.

"Yes, my Lord," replied Angewomon, inclining her head in respect. "Pilgrims journey here to see the one who delivered them from war. The city has been declared a holy place, as you know."

Lucemon turned back to the lights for a long few seconds, then back to Angewomon, now fully facing her. "Do you think what I did was holy? It was only what I felt was right."

It was a moment before the other angelic digimon replied. "What do you think holiness is, Sire? It was right for the fighting to stop, for the suffering to end. I'm not certain any of us would be standing here at all if you hadn't made the choice that you did. It would not be wrong for it to be called a holy thing."

"I see." A vaguely concerned expression rose in Lucemon's eyes for a moment. "You are not the first to tell me that-but I didn't know it was the popular opinion."

"Does it trouble you, my Lord?"

"It does and it does not." His bare feet made no noise on the polished marble floor as he moved to leave the chamber. Angewomon flew after him, keeping pace into the large meeting hall where Staff was held. "On one hand, it would help with those who have yet to stop their fighting in the more dubious parts of the world. They should not have to suffer because they do not know of the peace most of their brethren have discovered. On the other...a leader I can be to this world. A good one is the partner of the people, one who works with them to make something new, and hopefully better. But a god, Angewomon? Gods are remote. They deliver judgments from on high and expect their followers to follow or suffer. I would not do such a thing, but the title retains the taint."

Angewomon alighted next to him as they reached the hall. "I understand your concern, my Lord; it's not an easy thing for one 'mon to hold the world in hand. As far as I can tell, there has never been a global monarchy throughout history, so you have no real reference point. What I know is that your heart is good, and if you listen to yourself, peace will follow you."

"Nevertheless," Lucemon nodded graciously to a Veemon servent as he passed "you are my compass in these matters. Your thoughts are my thoughts- never be afraid to voice your concerns."

"Yes, Sire. Thank you."

Lucemon made turned right at a T-shaped section of hallway towards a tall dark-wooded pair of doors, guarded by a Knightmon, who saluted the angels and left his post to push open the doors. The dawn-touched sky spread out cloudless above all the way to the mountains in the distance, topped with snow, and below, a sea of stars. Lanterns shone in the lingering early morning gloom, filling the clearing before the Steps. The child-leveled ruler walked alone onto the balcony, followed by Angewomon, then the Knightmon, lingering by the door. When the throng below saw him, they burst into a frenzy of murmurs and gasps, and knelt.

"Please rise." Lucemon's voice was no louder than usual, but every digimon below heard him. They did as they were told, gazing up at the balcony. "I am glad I have your respect and your loyalty but your friendship is just as important. Some of you are here for the first time and meeting me only now. I welcome you here, and I welcome you to peace among your brothers." He glanced up at the strengthening light of the sun just inching over the horizon. His wings seemed gather the brilliance in each feather, wrapping it around his frame and making him a shining being. "As I promised you a time ago, this world is being rebuilt from the war that tore it asunder. Thanks to your cooperation with one another, the repairs have gone much more swiftly than anticipated." A warm smile touched his lips. "You should congratulate yourselves. Much can be done if we work together, as you have shown." Cheers rose up quickly to thunderous volume, and Lucemon waited patiently until they subsided. "I will be working to bring the whole of our world into agreement. Soon any digimon will be able to venture wherever in the land without fear of harm from even the fiercest of our brethren. It will be a harmonious place, a loving place. It will be your place." He was almost painfully bright to look at now, but no 'mon looked away, and he spread his hands wide. "Please go forth, and speak my words to those who might not hear them on the Network."

"Holy One!" cried out somemon below.

"Our Savior!"

"Bless us with your light!"

Lucemon paused, and glanced back at Angewomon. "They wish your blessing, Sire," she explained.

"A blessing," murmured the seemingly youthful king, more to himself it seemed, and returned his gaze to the crowd. "Very well, my friends." He closed his eyes, and the light surrounding him brightened even more so for a split second before it seemed to shatter into tiny points of light that fell down upon the crowd like star rain. A sensation of great calm seemed to breathe upon everyone present, a gentle optimism and the feeling that all the answers were close at hand. Contented murmuring broke out among the crowd, and the lanterns began to flicker out as dawn gave way to full morning. Lucemon watched them begin to disperse among the streets of the city or take to the air. Angewomon drew up to him, watching as well. "I wanted to refuse them," Lucemon told her quietly. "I could not. But they are happy."

Angewomon nodded once. "They love you very much."

The ruler was about to speak when a cry rose in the hall: "My Lord! The Skri'tamon delegation is here!" This was immediately followed by a great crash in what sounded like the banqueting hall.

"Oh..." Lucemon rose into the air, preparing to wade into the ruckus. "Gather Staff. They are a bit more early than I expected."

"Yes, Lord." Angewomon darted past him made a sharp left turn; Lucemon continued straight for the scents of breakfast, noting with dismay that the banquet hall door had been blasted open and there was a large black scorch mark on it. A Floramon, one of the cooking staff, was nearly at her wits end, wringing her leaflike hands so much Lucemon thought that she might pluck them off altogether. He gave her a reassuring smile as he passed and found the Skri'tamon delegation merrily availing themselves of the food. They were rather antlike in appearance, tall and muscular with lethal-looking antennae, sharp like stilettos on their ends. They were a variety of earthy colors, though the females of the group tended to be lighter of color and most noticeably of differing sizes. The males Lucemon could see were winged, with longer mandibles and painted with this or that design, but despite this they seemed rather uniform in body size. The eating was fierce, and astonishingly neat.

One terrified looking Blossomon scampered in with a large bowl of cloudy water. "Here you are!" he gasped in a voice rather higher than usual, and nearly tripped putting the bowl on the table, as he was trying to do it as fast as possible. The Skri'tamon all looked up at him in unison, then one took the bowl and placed it in their midst.

Lucemon choose this moment to step forward. "I see you've already taken advantage of the hospitality," he said wryly. "This place-"

One of the females turned in his direction. "You are this place's queen?" she inquired in a surprisingly musical voice, that seemed to be coming from near and far at once. "We cannot deign to speak to workers."

It was a moment, while Lucemon quickly processed what he knew about Skri'tamon. "I am," he admitted.

The female Skri'tamon rose and moved with deliberate strides to stand in front of him. A Garurumon with a royal guard crest growled low in his throat at this, but Lucemon quelled him with a hand gesture. The Skri'tamon tapped him lightly with her antennae from the top of his head to his shoulders, being careful of the sharp ends. "You are a queen? You are only a grub." She seemed to consider. "Still, you have the queenly scent." She drew herself up to her full, impressive height. "We are the Queen Skri'tamon, and we come in behalf of the Skri'tamon empire to speak with you, Grub-Queen, who stopped the war."

"I am Lucemon," the angelic digimon replied as regally as he could, not sure if the title he had been given was serious or lightly mocking. "I welcome you..." he glanced at the other members of the delegation, who had stopped eating and were watching him. "Who are your friends here?"

"We are the Queen," reiterated the female. At Lucemon's questioning look, she went on. "Ah, we see your question. The Singular Grace is many, many leagues away and cannot be moved. For the purpose of speaking with you she has chosen these ones to contain her mighty essence so that we may convene."

Lucemon followed her back to the table and sat. "Your workers are excellent foragers," remarked a male across from them, finishing a what looked like a hefty portion of food. "Very creative with plant and meat." His voice was as musical as the female's, only duskier.

Another male spoke up: "You wish to make our Empire part of your own territory, Grub-Queen?"

Lucemon was about to correct them, then thought better of it. "I do not wish to take away your rulership; I only want us to cooperate. Many smaller governments still exist in the, er, territory that I have, but they are all in agreement with me." It was then that the Staff showed up; Angewomon, along with Magnangemon, Rosemon, and a pair of the Royal Knights, Dynasmon and Rhodoknightmon. "This is my staff. They assist me in matters of the state."

"You have vessels of your essence as well." The Skri'tamon to whom he had first spoken eyed the newcomers with curiosity. "We are not so different."

"Well, they're not exactly..."

"Do you not share your mind with them? Are they not smaller representations of the queenly grace that you yourself have, and go forth with your proclamations?"

The ruler of most of the world sort of smiled. "I suppose." The Staff took seating around him, not used to such an informal gathering, but Lucemon could see they were adjusting well. "Now. As I was saying, the great majority of this world's digimon have made me their ruler. There was no way that every mon in the world could know straight away that this major change in government had happened all at once. There are some in the more unexplored lands- like yours, Queen Skri'tamon- that did not participate in the war, or do not know still that it is over. Therefore, they do not know of my plans for this world and her people."

The smallest female, the farthest down the table, met his eyes. "What is this plan?"

"Peace." Rhodoknightmon spoke up, interlacing his armored fingers and setting his chin atop them. "The greatest this world has known. Even in the quiet years there has always been fighting among us, and there were fractures between types that eventually did lead to war. But under out lord's rule, it seems that much of this has vanished. 'Tis a beauteous thing."

"I myself was a soldier in the war." Magnangemon added. "The hate I carried in my heart was a frightening thing, and I've deleted many in its course." He paused a moment, obviously having difficulty. "But that time is over. I've opened myself to the knowledge that we can stop being types and just be digimon. Lord Lucemon has helped me with that."

The collective faces of Queen Skri'tamon looked thoughtful. "Indeed a queenly power, to quell the natural instincts of war in digimon."

Lucemon shook his head. "Such a thing cannot be natural."

"Grub-Queen," smiled the Skri'tamon, "you carry the marks of both your names. Like the grub you are, you do not always see what is there. Digimon have claws and fangs and sword. In his heart of hearts even the softest looking 'mon longs to drink the data of another in a heated moment. We are imperfect. There are forever things to squabble over, therefore there is fighting. Either you must provide enough food, water, and space for every digimon that will ever live, or you must expect the stinger of violence to lodge in your gut."

The ruler's blue eyes cooled. "I have faith in my people," he said lowly.

"Faith cannot remake the data of a mon, unless you are a god. We only say to expect these things, and not to be disappointed. We sense in you a sublime grace." She took a drink from one of the saucers, and a closer male went on. "We are a strong people, but even the warrior longs for peace. We see the merit of joining queenly power with you, but we wish time to ponder this. Permit us in your territory for a while longer, and talk with us. We wish to know more of this."

A silent nod from Lucemon. "As long as you need. Rosemon, please arrange for a room...rooms?..."

"One will be fine, Grub-Queen."

"...A room then, for our guests."

"Sire." Rosemon bowed and departed.

Queen Skri'tamon pointed imperiously at the Floramon, who had managed to calm down some, but quickly went a-tremble again. "Food worker! Continue to provide our vessels with food and drink!"

Lucemon watched the Floramon worriedly as she scrabbled for the kitchen. "Please don't terrify the, erm, workers. They aren't used to being ordered like that."

"If they obey they have nothing to fear." One of the Skri'tamon bit into a fruity something. "Ahh! Sugar! Most pleasing!"

Angewomon smiled at her king. "Always the diplomat, Lord."

"I try."

"If they're a warrior people, then I should like to spar them sometime." Dynasmon spoke for the first time. "A knight's skill should always be sharp, Sire."

"You may, and you too, Rhodoknightmon. Angewomon, could you make sure my address today hits the feed of the Net about noon? I will be in my chambers."

"What about the Skri'tamon, Sire?"

Lucemon drifted upwards. "I think they'll be fine, my dear. If they wish to talk to me again, send them up."

"Yes, Lord."

When he was gone, Queen Skri'tamon's collective stare fell on Angewomon. "We have troubled your Grub-Queen with our words."

Angewoman glanced after him. "Maybe. He dearly wishes for peace, and you reminded him that it is a very hard road after centuries of fighting amongst ourselves."

"Peace can be achieved, if he could live long enough to breed it out of all of the workers. Thousands of years of peace, and peace will be all that is known. That is why there is war- nothing lasts." Queen Skri'tamon's musical voice was almost casual. "No queen can live long enough. But there is much in the Grub-Queen to be admired. We think he might do it."


End file.
